


Ashes

by s01as



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prince GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Slow Burn, george just wants a friend, mcyt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s01as/pseuds/s01as
Summary: Asteria, once known for its prosperity and stability, has fallen to insurrection- brought to it's knees by the hands of a group of revolutionists: they call themselves the Uprising.George, prince of the prestiged kingdom, is being forced to abandon the home he's known for 18 years. With only a satchel of personal belongings and the son of the Asterian captain, Dream, as his personal guard, they set off for the borders in hopes of securing his safety. But nothing comes without a price.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 28





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is entirely my own work, the world is my own creation as well as the plot! However, George and Dream's relationship is based heavily off of a relationship in "The Seven Realms" book series. I took inspiration from the characters and the way their dynamic works, but not all aspects of it are the same! All characters are based off of online personas and if they ever express any discomfort towards fics, this will be taken down. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy :) Excuse any poor grammar or vocabulary! This fic has taken around a month to plan, so I'm super excited to finally start releasing it <3

It had been two dreadful days since they had escaped the confines of Asterian castle, forced to flee by the oncoming crowds of people set on the monarchy's ruin. With only their most valuable belongings, they set off to the Virinen border— the only place they could think of to seek refuge.

George, personally, was oblivious to the real reasoning behind the Uprising. He had heard bits and pieces from the castle staff, word of revolts in the southern, more radical cities; even talk of a covert revolutionary group that recruited commoners to their cause. George never paid any mind to them, though— until three days ago, when someone snuck into the castle and assassinated his grandfather, the former King of Asteria.

Everything past that was a blur. George's father was crowned, more rumors circulated, and George and his sisters Victoria and Amelia were rushed in to separate carriages with their personal guards. They were sent off one by one, each waiting two-hour intervals to spread them out and make it harder for the rebellion to find them.

Before the Uprising, George had never given much thought to politics. Victoria, his older sister, was the one who would have to deal with the weight of the crown when it was passed down to their generation. So George paid no mind to them. 

He wasn't even aware of how much the Asterians despised the monarch until they started receiving word of the attacks on the government officials. The captain of the guard and his father were forced to begin making decisions, and only then was George made aware.

It was intriguing, if not terrifying. And for the first time in years, he had started listening in on his father's conversations. The aftermath of the war between Caeus and Virinen, the one that they had joined in on an impulse decision, had left much of the kingdom battered and shaken up. The lower classes were inspired by the Virinens' patriotism, and to them, the monarchy was a liability to Asteria. They believed they could take over and rule justly.

His family had always been kind to him; he could never perceive them in the light that the others did. But he still wasn't sure how he felt about the Uprising. On one hand, they were merely doing what they thought was right for the kingdom— maybe the monarchy had ruled unfairly, George had been too ignorant of the politics to know for sure. But on the other hand, they were now trying to assassinate him... and his family.

  


-

  


George shifted uncomfortably in his seat; his back was beginning to ache from the long hours they had spent cramped in the carriage. They avoided the main roads, making the journey even longer— and the rugged backroads made it no better.

He turned his attention to study the solemn guard sitting opposite of him— Dream, the son of the Asterian Captain, who had been assigned to his personal guard for almost a year. In the hereditary line of captains, Dream was next to inherit the position. Customarily, when a new monarch is crowned, a new captain is appointed alongside them. But there were some exceptions, and the Uprising had made this one of them. 

In the year that Dream had been assigned to his personal guard, they hadn’t had much to do with each other. It was almost always formality— stay with George anywhere he went, stand guard outside his room, make sure he was safe. He rarely spoke, and when he did it was never small talk, it was always business.

It was strange, having to view Dream as someone only there to protect him. He and Dream — or rather, Clay, his real name — grew up together in the castle. Clay was his only friend, besides his sisters. He loved Victoria and Amelia, but his and Clay's friendship was different, it was more… real. 

Seven years had flown by before reality took hold of their friendship. Clay was the captain's son, and there were expectations to be met. Each heir undertook extensive training in preparation for their own promotion; and to follow tradition, Clay was sent away to the academy in western Asteria to receive proper schooling and practice at the age of thirteen.

When he returned five years later, he was completely different. Gone was the kid who used to chase George around the castle grounds with stick swords, mimicking the Asterian soldiers battling against the military nation Caeus. Reenacting the Asterian's triumph in the Great Battle; or his mischievous other half who helped him steal desserts from the unsuspecting castle cooks— against George's better judgment. 

The new Clay, now dubbed Dream, was battle-hardened and serious. His looks drastically changed; he was taller and sturdier, and his skin was tanned a darker hue from countless days under the sun. Scars from countless hostile exchanges decorated his body, one most prominently above his left eye; the jagged line split his eyebrow, leaving scar tissue in its place. He was a soldier now. 

Hell, Dream even called George, "Your Highness," when speaking to him, even in private.

Sometimes George reminisced on their times as children, wondering what happened to the fun-loving Clay he used to be friends with. Because when he looks at the captain's son now, all he can see is someone foreign, untouchable.

"Dream," George broke the deadly silence between the two. The name still felt unfamiliar in his mouth, somewhat bitter even. But Dream had requested he stopped referring to him as Clay when he was assigned as George's personal guard. "Do you remember the first time we met?"

Dream's vacant expression flickered for a moment as he answered, "I do."

"I was five; you were six," George reminded him, inspecting his guard's face for any sign of recognition. "Your father was at the castle for a meeting with my grandfather. You managed to escape the supervision of the guards and stumbled into my room while the nanny was telling me a story."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of George's lips as he recollected that moment. He glanced across the carriage and could tell Dream was reliving the memory too. 

"The story was about a knight that was sent on a quest to kill a dragon, but he couldn't bring himself to do it," George hesitated before continuing. "They became friends, against all odds: Inseparable. Two halves of a whole." His voice trailed off into the familiar silence.

Earning no response, George sighed and laid his head back against the wooden interior of the carriage. "Clay-... Dream. Please. You don't have to be so serious around me-" 

He was cut short by the sound of a man's shout and a thud outside the carriage, and the vehicle rolled to a halt.

George's pulse accelerated— _already?_ He glanced at Dream, who shared the same knowing look. 

Somehow the rebellion had found them. 

It had only been two days since they left the castle: so it seemed almost impossible that they could have received that intel. Unless someone had provided the leaders of the Uprising information before their departure.

Dread tore at George's stomach while his mind raced uncontrollably. Thoughts pooled in without filter, tormenting his conscience with disturbing visions. With a shuddering breath, he turned to face Dream, who had already unsheathed his sword. The captain's son seemed much more collected than he was, and George trusted Dream's judgment, so he did his best to remain calm.

"Wait here and _stay down,_ Your Highness," Dream whispered, reaching for the handle of the carriage door. "Only come out if there's an emergency." 

“Be careful-“ George tried to add— but Dream had already slipped out of the door and into the dead of night.

Outside, it was pitch black, save a small lantern that hung where the driver sat behind the horses. It made it harder for George, who had disregarded Dream's order, to get an understanding of their situation by peeking through the small window in the side of the carriage. He thought he saw a dark figure move in his peripherals, though he was unsure if it was Dream or one of the ambushers. 

"It's so goddamn dark," George grumbled to himself. He craned his neck to see if he could get a better view of the attackers. To his surprise, a torch flashed a few feet in front of the window, illuminating George's face and the face of the person holding it. George jumped back, startled. 

The other man's eyes widened in recognition, " _It's 'im, the Prince is here!_ " He shouted to the rest of his group. " _Soot was right, they were 'eading to Virinen._ "

George panicked, frantically scrambling away from the window. 

_Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit._

Before they could get close enough to the carriage, he heard yells of alarm from the other men and the sound of metal on metal. Dream. Relief flooded through his body, though there still wasn't much time. Dream was a skilled soldier, but was he good enough to fend off multiple people at once?

George's eyes darted around the carriage, searching for the satchel full of food and some medicine they had packed for the journey. When he finally found it, he reached in and retrieved the knife that he had packed for a situation like this. It was engraved with his family's insignia, a star with eight sides, symbolizing each of the original founding cities of Asteria. The knife was a gift from his father, and each of his siblings received an identical one. He was glad he had it, even if he wasn't sure how to use it. He slung the satchel over his shoulders and scrambled to get back to the window though, to his annoyance, he still couldn't see much besides the occasional torch flash by. 

The sound of a man screaming and proceeding that, a thud, sounded right outside the carriage. George's heartbeat drummed deafeningly in his ears, was Dream okay? Being stuck inside the carriage meant that he had no knowledge of what was happening outside. For all he knew, Dream could've already been incapacitated and they were ready to come in and dispose of George next. His gut itched for him to open the door and go do something, help Dream if he could— or find a way for both of them to get away safely. He wasn't sure how he could, only that he wanted to try.

Ultimately, he pushed down the urge and stayed inside, to keep out of Dream's way. Plus, he had already revealed himself to the others, no need to get himself in any more trouble.

While he sat alone in the carriage, the same thought kept returning to his mind. What of the rest of his family? Was this a coordinated attack? The words of the man who had spoken repeated in his head— they had already been informed of the plan to flee the country. Surely...

George tried ridding his mind of the single notion that plagued it. No, he couldn't think about that right now.

A putrid smell imposed on George's moment, snapping him back to the now. Realization struck as he recalled the man who had fallen right outside the carriage, his torch must have rolled and hit the wheels of the vehicle... because it was _on fucking fire._

Flames began to lap at the floor of the carriage, and George clambered to the door; the heat emanated from the ground as the fire enveloped more and more of the wooden carriage. Smoke began permeating the air; it filled George's lungs and made his eyes water. He had no choice but to leave now. With a grunt, he pushed the door open and stumbled out the door, tripping and falling to his knees in the grass. 

George sputtered and coughed, attempting to regain his footing. The knife found its way back into his hand, and shakily, he made his way to the front of the burning carriage. 

Through the haze and smoke, he could make out three figures engaged in combat. Dream was in the middle; the green cape — now singed and dirtied from the soot — slung over his shoulders made him stand out from the other two men. It was clear whoever sent them knew that Dream would be there, as the men who were teaming up on him had come fully armed and prepared for a fight.

The light radiating from the fire gave the captain's son a glowing appearance. His fair hair shone, standing out against the dark backdrop. The silver armor, though slightly worn from years of use, glimmered brilliantly. Flecks of gold from the embers flickered in his hazel eyes, giving them a glowing intensity. He looked almost unreal. 

George couldn't help but stare at Dream, awestruck by his appearance and his uncanny swordsmanship ability. He moved fluidly, blocking and parrying every advance with ease. The sword Dream wielded looked as if it weighed nothing to him. Even against two attackers, he still appeared to have the upper hand. 

He knew Dream had gone to military school in the five years they had been separated— but he had never seen him put his education to use. There had been no reason to, until now. George wasn't sure what he had been anticipating, but this had proven to be much more dramatic.

George stood in the middle of the gravel path, his legs turned completely putty. No solitary thought stayed in his head for too long before something new rendered him distracted. He needed to be helping Dream. Getting them out of there. Doing something. He turned back to Dream, who looked to be growing somewhat weary from the fighting. His face was strained as both men repeatedly came after him. One after the other, depleting his strength more and more each time their swords clashed. Both attackers, however, paid no mind to George.

Anxious whinnies from the horses tied to the carriage seized his attention. The blaze had almost reached the front by now, and the two horses tethered to it stamped and neighed apprehensively, tugging on their bonds to try and free themselves before the fire could spread closer to them. The knife grasped in his hand began growing heavier, and he had an idea. 

George approached the horses tentatively, worried he may startle them and cause them to panic. He produced the knife and began cutting at the ropes tying the horses to the carriage. He could feel the horse's stress as he vigorously worked; the threads began snapping as the rope grew thinner. Biting his lip, he strained to work through the rest of the binding. 

There was an anguished shout from across the clearing, catching George off-guard. Dream had managed a clean blow on one of them. His sword glistened with blood, and the man was on the ground, clutching his chest painfully. 

The other attacker's breathing was labored, but despite that, he continued swinging at Dream. Dream tried to evade the strikes, but the tip of the blade caught an exposed area on his chest, drawing blood.

Dream took in a sharp, painful breath and shifted his hand instinctively towards his chest, allowing room for the other man to swing his sword down. Dream fell to one knee as a gash was torn in the side of his leg. Blood spilled from the wound, staining the cloth around it dark red. 

In a final retaliation, he swung his sword up in a broad arc. Catching the attacker off-guard, he plunged the sword into their leg and strenuously pulled it back out, causing himself to fall backward. The sword clattered to the ground beside him.

George felt the rope snap in his hands, and in response, the horse began bucking and pulling away. He hastily grabbed the reins and pulled down, doing his best to comfort it. 

Sweat drenched George's face as he hurried across the gravel path, pulling the disoriented horse along with him. Dream's fallen body was amongst the chaos and disorder, deep crimson coated his hands and his armor— though not all of it was his.

" _Dream!_ " George called, his voice hoarse from the clouds of smoke filling his lungs and coating his throat. He pushed forward, the adrenaline aiding him in keeping a tight grip on the reins. Swallowing, he did his best to avert his gaze from the bodies strewn across his vision. Many were suffering from blood loss from where Dream had struck them— some lay unconscious, or maybe they were dead.

"George," the captain's son sputtered as George knelt down beside him. 

"You did good, Dream," he extended his hand to Dream, who grasped his forearm appreciatively and pulled himself off the ground.

One of Dream's hands found his sword, still resting in the dirt beside him, and the other remained steadily on George's arm for balance. He stood up with a painful grunt, doing his best not to put weight on his injured leg. George glanced at the wound, it looked pretty deep from what he could discern, and Dream was still losing blood at an undesirable rate; they would have to move fast and find shelter quick. Dream's hand lingered on George's arm for a few seconds, even after he regained his footing. George noticed and gave it a trivial thought, but didn't pay attention for too long before he directed his thoughts elsewhere.

There was enough room for both George and Dream on the horse, though they were both grown men and their combined weight would make it harder to travel quickly, even if George was significantly smaller than Dream. Nevertheless, they would have to make do with what they had— time would not be on their side.

Dream's gaze flicked over the fallen bodies, and his hand floated to his chest, gently touching the wound there. When he brought his hand back to his vision, his fingers were stained red.

"I shouldn't have let them get that close to me."

George's expression softened when he heard Dream's voice pierce through the sound of the crackling flames. "You fought off multiple people at once and won. At least you didn't end up dead," he responded truthfully. 

Despite his reply, Dream bristled with annoyance— mostly at himself. 

George laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We've got to go." 

Dream turned to look at George and allowed himself to relax a little before nodding in agreement.

George aided him in getting onto the mount; he had to push up off of his injured leg, which earned a painful wince and a sympathetic look from the prince. Dream wavered a little while adjusting himself to be comfortable on the horse's back, and George rushed forward instinctively.

"Are you okay?" George asked him, his gaze resting on Dream's leg. 

"I'm fine," Dream breathed, "it's not that deep." He ripped off a piece of his tattered cape and fastened it securely around the wound as a solution; the pressure would help lessen the bleeding. George's expression remained concerned, but there was nothing more they could do until they made it somewhere else anyway.

After a few worried glances, George climbed up in front of Dream and gripped the reins in both his hands. Digging his heel into the side of the horse, he encouraged it towards the vast forest bordering both sides of the road. At this point, anywhere was better than here. And as much as he didn't want to get lost in the expanse of the woods, it would make it harder to detect them.

They began moving at a steady pace, and George felt Dream slowly relax into him. His hold on the reins tightened, and he glanced down at Dream's hands, comfortably wrapped around George's waist for support. He let himself drift into thought again. At one point in his life, George would have been grateful to be stuck alone with Dream; now he was unsure where they even stood. Dream had just risked his life for George, but only out of duty. It was his responsibility to defend George; he was only doing his job. George tried convincing himself that was all it would ever be, that the level of friendship they formerly had was unobtainable now. But looking at Dream now— allowing George, trusting him, to get them both to safety... he felt somewhat hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for starting off VERY detail heavy. There was a lot to explain in the first chapter for context later on, but you'll start to see George and Dream's dynamic more soon! 
> 
> And lastly, I'm not the most elegant writer, and I've been out of practice for quite some time. The purpose of this fic is to help me learn and expand my knowledge since it's been fairly limited until now. We'll see where the future goes, and hopefully by the end I'll have improved! Regardless, I have a lot planned that I'm really excited to develop and share ;)


	2. two

It was fabled that the bond between the monarch and their captain ran deeper than just titles. That they were connected through something incomprehensible to the average mind. Magic? Maybe. It was the captain's closest kept secret, and no one besides them would know for certain, not even the Asterian kings and queens.

But when Dream felt a tingle of electricity race down his spine, unveiling and igniting a part of him that he never knew he had— when he felt George's emotions cascade into his own, intense and overwhelming— leaving him struggling to breathe, _he_ knew.

Every new captain experienced the same feeling when Asteria gained a new ruler. When the old monarch was dead. 

Dream also knew then, that the carriages carrying George's family, and his own, had never made it to the Virinen border.

And as he rode behind George, fading in and out of consciousness from the loss of blood, the memory of his father reminding him of their gift— their legacy— resurfaced in his mind.

_"It would be dangerous if anyone knew," his father spoke unquestionably, "that's why it's been kept secret since the first captain."_

_He looked his son directly in the eyes and placed both hands on his shoulders before proceeding, "You should never tell Victoria, Clay," his voice lowered, "or anyone else, for that matter."_

_Dream nodded in understanding, "I promise."_

_Sighing, the captain relieved the pressure off of his son and turned to face the lowering sun on the horizon. The sound of hundreds of cicadas making their presence known began to pierce through the silence; a frigid breeze blew past them, rustling the undergrowth and making Dream shiver._

_"Our job is to keep them safe. And we've been given a gift to do that. You'll learn, one day, when Victoria is crowned queen, how important that job really is."_

Dream had believed him. But now, his father and Victoria were gone. He could feel it in every bone of his body. When he reached out, all he could feel was George, sitting in front of him, anxious and afraid, but determined. 

For a moment, he allowed himself to grieve. A single tear slid down his cheek, a single tear for the memories and the lessons; a single tear for the unsaid goodbye. 

It landed on his leg, soaking into the fabric and disappearing forever. 

Then they were standing still, and Dream could hear George's voice— could feel George helping him get down off the horse and onto the grassy floor. 

And when Dream was safely on the ground, through blurred vision, he could see George rummaging through the bag full of supplies. He could feel his frantic thoughts, desperately trying to recall his very limited knowledge of medicine. 

Everything was changing at such rapid-fire, and despite the compelling urge to talk to George and tell him everything: tell him about his father, their gift, his duty, he would honor the promise he made. 

Their current priority was staying alive. Telling George about his father's fate would only jeopardize that. He would find out in due time. His decision came to closure as he felt himself begin to drift off, eyes gently fluttering shut.

-

By mid-afternoon, George sat directly across from Dream, perched on a boulder while watching the sleeping soldier contently. 

As much as George tried not to, he kept finding himself studying the guard's face; over and over his eyes found themselves staring at the way the sunlight had caressed his cheeks, leaving little pieces behind, dusting them with freckles that harmonized his features perfectly. The way the light caught his hair, the golden waves resting gently against his forehead, messy strands blowing lightly in the warm breeze.

He felt himself getting flustered just looking; there was no doubt that he wasn't a good-looking man, and George could see that. 

He heard Dream stir and hastily looked away, blinking harshly and busying himself with a pebble that lay nearby.

"It's hot as hell," he heard Dream grumble from his resting spot.

"You're awake," George cleared his throat stiffly. "I was beginning to think you weren't ever going to wake up."

Dream snorted, pushing himself upwards into a sitting position and wincing at the pain that shot through his leg when he moved. He peeked at the hastily wrapped bandage, stained dark red, and began to unravel it.

It was a particularly gruesome sight, though Dream didn't seem to be as affected by it as George was, who promptly looked away with a pained expression. It had been hard enough to clean it up while it was still new, now it looked even worse. His stomach churned.

"It'll take more than a blow to the leg to kill me," Dream said, reaching for the bag next to him. "We need to start moving back towards the border. There's only going to be a few days before the rebellion realizes they're missing a few men, so we need to get moving as soon as possible."

George bit his lip. "You think we should keep going to the border?" 

"As soon as we're in Virinen we head straight to the capital. They would've already sent word of our arrival when we left, so they should be expecting us." 

Dream had blatantly ignored his question. Agitation simmered within him, now was not the time he wanted to deal with Dream's stubbornness. He tightened his grip around the pebble, deflecting the guard's gaze.

If they were going to have to work together, communication would be vital. Dream's lack of effort stung, and for every moment Dream pushed himself further away, the intensity worsened. It burned. 

He was at loss for words until he glanced at the bag that Dream was using for supplies; a new realization overwhelmed him. "We're going to run out of food before we reach the border, there's not much in there."

"There are villages nearby, I can go and grab some food," he turned to George, "and you can hide. You'd be recognized instantly."

The thicket rustled behind George and both of them jumped to their feet, or in Dream's case, attempted to. He fell to his good knee with a grunt of surprise and a muttered profanity.

"Are you sure you can go?" George took a step forward, holding a hand out for him.

Dream pushed himself to his feet, neglecting George's aid. Another sting. "As I see it, I have to be able to go," he handed the satchel to George, "we can't waste time, George."

With a slight defeated nod, George complied. He offered to walk beside the horse while Dream rode, which Dream accepted hesitantly. They set off back towards the road, and towards the small village that they had passed on the way to Virinen. 

-

The sun was barely above the horizon when they arrived. Dream had jerked the horse to a stop... and George was dead tired. His breaths came out in ragged bursts; he hadn't had to be this active in ages. Dream gave George a bemused look, but it was shortly replaced with a grimace as he began walking.

"Dream- let me go with you," he glanced at the bandage on Dream's leg, "please, you aren't going to get far alone on that leg."

Dream shook his head, "People know what you look like George, you need to stay here. I can't risk having the rebellion on our tails sooner."

"Leaving me alone is just as unsafe. It'll go quicker if we go together... I can wear a hood, just lend me your cape." At this point, he was pleading.

Dream paused, the reins still tightly gripped in his hands. A trace of hope dashed through him; he watched as Dream unclipped his cape, and caught it when he threw it back at him. 

Dream remained silent while they ventured forward.

-

Part of the reason George was so inclined to travel with Dream to the village was because he was curious. Of course, he wouldn't be given a kindly greeting if he was seen, but to him, the risk was worth it for the discovery. 

He had never seen life outside the castle walls. If he had, he wouldn't remember. Life at the castle was very guarded, especially with the constant threat of war from the north. The sole members of the royal family who made it outside were his father and Victoria, and only for meetings of the highest importance.

Sometimes he would ask Dream about how the Asterians lived. He assumed Dream would know, because of how long he spent away from the royal family. Of course, he would only get the bare minimum. But now he had an opportunity to witness it himself.

They trudged along the barely distinguishable path; George pulled the cape over his head. 

"Keep your head down," Dream muttered. They had made their way onto the main street of the village. The sun was dipping below the horizon, and the streets began to grow emptier. People were busying themselves in closing down shops, but George still marveled in the simplicity of it all.

He did his best not to stare as they jostled their way through the thinning crowd. The horse along with Dream's armor made them stand out from the rest, but people were tired and didn't bother questioning. To the rest of the village, they were weary soldiers, looking for a place to stay.

Dream scanned the shops in search of one with sufficient food, enough to last them a few more days at the least. One stood out to him, it hadn't shut down completely, though they looked to be closing soon. There wasn't much left, but they would take what they could get.

He pulled George along, only letting go of his arm when they reached the stand. There was leftover bread there, but not much. They would have to ration.

Dream called the shop-owner over, and George took the time they were negotiating as an opportunity to examine their surroundings more extensively. 

A few children scampered across his vision, seizing his attention. He observed them rough around in the gravel road, covering their clothes in dust and grime. His mouth was slightly agape— they were being so reckless. _Where were their parents?_

The idea of not being under constant supervision was almost alien to him, and these children were so _young_. They looked so frail in their dirty, loosely fitting clothes— like they would break and fall apart at the gentlest of touches. 

This was how they lived, and George was beginning to come to terms with that. Obviously, he knew they lived a much simpler life than he had; and they wouldn't know the circumstances of living in the castle, nor would he ever know how it felt to live the life of a commoner.

Another voice called from across the road, an older woman, standing in an open door. Both the children halted their play and ran to her, disappearing inside the house. It was fascinating to him, and even more so the fact that he would probably never encounter those children again.

"George, we gotta go." Dream snapped him out of his focus and George turned to face him. He was holding a few rations of bread, and some meat that was bagged. George nodded and followed him as he made his way back down the road.

Lanterns were being lit outside of people's houses, and George stared in wonder at the rows of places to live; they were all the same size and the same shape, though the number of people living there differed. At the end of the street, George spotted an inn. They would need to find a spot to water and feed the horse, or even sell it if they could. They could make quite a bit of money off of it in case they needed to stop by anywhere else on the way to Virinen. 

"We should stop there," George nudged Dream, who had begun limping while they were walking. Blood had begun seeping out of the wound on his leg again. _Dammit Dream._ "Come on. You know we have to."

"No," Dream answered, clenching his jaw, "no. We have to leave."

"We can afford to stay one night. Also, the horse needs to be fed and watered. We can't keep it going all night without giving it the essentials."

"It's not safe-"

"Dream, for once in your _goddamn_ life please listen to me," George stopped abruptly, turning to look at his guard. Dream's expression was strained, his eyes were filled with what could only be discomfort. George relaxed his tone, "You're not indestructible. Nobody is. And neither of us were prepared for what happened last night. We can take a night— _one night_ —to rest."

Dream stood completely still, eyes locked with George's. He searched for words, a rebuttal to George's request, but they were lost to him. All he could do was nod, giving into the lulling thought of a good night's sleep.

"C'mon," George said, voice low. Dream leaned into him for support the rest of the way to the inn. George shivered at the touch of Dream's icy armor brushing up against his arm.

At that point, the sun had completely vanished from the sky, and the familiar night had begun to settle. The streets were quiet, besides the occasional chirp from a cricket or the rustle of leaves.

"Did you visit these places often?"

Dream gave a thoughtful hum. "Sometimes," his eyes wandered towards the sky, "never for long."

George looked down, wrapping his arms around himself. Nighttime brought a chilly wind. "You know, all those years ago, when you left, I wanted to go with you."

Dream's head snapped towards George, who chuckled restlessly. "I've always wanted to see the rest of Asteria." 

He smiled. "While Victoria was busy learning how to be queen, I spent my time in the library." Hours upon hours he wasted reading. Reading about anything and everything, but mostly about Asteria. Reading to drown out the constant talk of politics that enveloped his life, that led him to whatever this was. "Pitiful, I know."

Dream's silence caused George's hesitation. He had never really talked to Dream about what happened after he left, only expressed his frustration. 

"I also wanted to see you."

"What?"

George flicked his gaze to match Dream's. "You were my best friend. Of course I wanted to see you." He snapped, opening his mouth to continue, but they had reached the entrance of the inn. Moths flocked to the lanterns hung on either side of the door, clinging to it like it was their only lifeline. Above that, there was a sign.

_Noventa Inn_

They were in Noventa. George could vaguely remember where that was on the Asterian map. They were close to the border, by maybe two days of walking. 

Dream led the horse around to the back, thankfully there was a stable. As they spoke, the handler kept glancing back up at George, who was standing near the entrance. It was unnerving, and George reached to pull the makeshift hood further down. If he had put two and two together already, trouble was bound to come their way.

Before he had the chance to worry further, Dream was already heading inside. George lingered after him, feeling slightly disturbed.

Though they were running slightly low on money, the amount he had stuffed into the satchel before leaving had not accounted for having to pay for many things, they were still able to purchase a room for both of them. It provided one bed, that Dream refused to take. 

They sat in the room together, George on the end of the bed and Dream propped up against the wall, facing the door. 

"Let me switch the bandages again." George sidled up to Dream, who looked apprehensive. "Books, remember?" He reassured him.

The wound did look to be getting better, which relieved the both of them. George used the canister of water they stuffed in the bag on a spare piece of bandage to clean up the dried blood.

While he was working on rewrapping it, he heard Dream begin to speak. 

"I regret having to leave."

George felt himself pause, looking up at Dream. He was staring out the window, thinking. George couldn't bring himself to say anything, even though his mind was flooded with questions. Everything that happened in the last year, all for Dream to say that. George resentfully fixed the last of the bandage and moved away, back onto the bed. 

_If he regretted it, why did he make George feel like a stranger?_

He sat on the bed, left in silence while Dream drifted off. George had always had difficulty sleeping, and even though he hadn't slept at all in the past day, his consciousness was wide awake. 

His thoughts were hard to keep track of, the events of the previous days had left him with an overwhelming sense of confusion and anticipation. He trusted Dream in the sense that he could get them both to safety, but from there, his presence only brought more tension.

George sighed, pushing himself to at least close his eyes. The twilight was comforting, comforting enough to allow himself to relax into the bed. 

...

There was a bang right outside their room. 

George and Dream both shot up, Dream's hand impulsively went to the sword at his side. 

Someone had knocked on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed this update 👀 chapter 3 should be out within the next few weeks!


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